Book II: The King's Dilemma
Chapter 44
"And how would that make me stronger?" Raven shot back. Although she might have appeared aggressive on the outside, she was... curious, on the inside. It was a short, burning hope that Raven tried to squash out, but found she couldn't.
She had spent decades building up her strength, only to realize that it was no use. No matter if she was a maiden, if she was the most powerful huntress on the planet...
There was just no way she could beat that woman... Salem... She knew she had always been doomed to fail. As if reading her thoughts, Lilith smiled pitifully, patronizingly, like a woman smiling at a pitiful child. Her eyes flickered with a dangerous, fluorescent purple.
"Why don't I show you?"
Purple and black sashes exploded from the small of her back, darting towards Raven at a blinding past. Instinctively, Raven launched herself to the side, and just in time. A sash slammed into the trunk of the tree beside her, carving the tree in half like a hot knife slicing through butter. Splinters flew off of the wood, and she ducked away to avoid them.
What was that?
A bead of sweat appeared on Raven's forehead. She didn't often like to admit it, but taking that strike would have knocked her out, aura or not. What was this power?
"This is the true power of our Goddess Salem." The cold voice interrupted her thoughts, forcing her attention back to the monstrosity that stood in front of her.
"What are you!?" Raven backed away. Every fiber in her being was telling her to run, but at the same time, if she ran, she would die. There was no way out.
"A hybrid."
Was Cinder a hybrid then, too? Did she have the same sashes and tentacles that Lilith had?
"And Cinder?" she asked, part of her curious, but the other part of her wanting—no, needing to stall for time. Lilith was a superior opponent, and Raven Branwen only willingly engaged in battle if she was assured of her victory. But this time, Raven wasn't so sure if she could win, let alone put up a long enough fight to stall for help.
"Soon to be. She doesn't know it yet. Funny, isn't it? She suffered humiliation after losing her arm, and slowly, more and more of her flesh is being consumed by the Goddess. Her Grimm arm started off at her elbow, and now, it's almost up to her shoulder. A tragedy, isn't it?"
She was being tamed into a Grimm? Like a disease? Did that mean Salem controlled her? Raven widened her eyes, attempting to process the information. Before she could though, Lilith seemed to have grown weary with the talk.
Sashes blitzed through the space like bullets, weaving together like tendril whips. Raven leaped off to the side, but she was grazed by one of them.
The strength was overwhelming.
Instead of letting the sash drain her aura by shielding the area, she opted to take the attack with the minimal aura she had. It slammed into her abdomen with an unexpected, incredible amount of force, and Raven's back slammed against the trunk of a tree.
She grunted. That hurt like a bitch. Her abdomen and lower back had taken most of the damage, and her aura ensured that she could still keep fighting. It didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.
"Do you see now, Branwen?"
"Don't call me that."
"I don't think you have any room for negotiation, Branwen." Lilith's glaive spun in her hand, gleaming with an almost bloodthirsty, malevolent aura.
Raven drew Omen once more, watching her opponent carefully. Lilith crouched, sinking into her stance. Her glaive nestled against the crook of her arm, resting comfortably on her back.
And then she struck once more.
-o-o-o-
She couldn't do it. It wasn't possible.
Not without the help of the maiden powers. She called upon them once again, envisioning lightning streaking from Miló to attack the hide of the tentacles.
Surging forward, it blitzed from her hand, manifesting into existence, and reaching out to strike.
The pathetic ruby sparks that emanated from her fingertips did nothing to scratch the thick, black hides of the tentacles. They continued to close in on her, the dome of black flesh shrinking by the second, ensnaring her like a helpless rabbit caught in the hunter's trap.
She stilled, recognizing the hopelessness of the situation she was in. It was over, wasn't it? All of the effort she had put in, all of that just to lose.
As darkness encroached upon her, Pyrrha's mind raced with memories of her past, each moment flashing before her like fragments of a shattered mirror. She remembered the innocent laughter of her friends, the warmth of her team's camaraderie, and the fleeting moments of hope that once fueled her resolve. The times at Beacon, Percy, and her friends—they had reminded her of what it meant to be human and have friends. To not be placed on a pedestal and isolated from the world. To not be a trophy paraded before a crowd.
But now, she felt that same isolation once more. She felt it all—the cold embrace of despair, clinging and wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud, the cage, like she was trapped in a ring.
She'd failed Percy. She'd failed her team. She'd failed everyone. She had wanted to save the world as a huntress, as a maiden—but in the end, she was nothing more than a foolish pawn. Pyrrha clenched her eyes shut, resigned to her fate.
"Fight…"
Her pools of emerald green widened. Who was that? The voice was masculine, so it couldn't have been the woman in front of her. No, was she hallucinating?
"Fight… fight…"
Was that...
Was that Percy?
"Fight Pyrrha, fight!" the voice thundered.
That was right! She'd gone too far to give up now. All of the good times she had at Beacon, finding true friends for the first time in her life… Being a huntress was her destiny! Why would she just give up now?
Her breath stalled. Her heart froze, skipping a beat, and then violently pounded against her ribcage, threatening to burst out of her chest. She could feel her blood flow—from her legs to her fingertips to her neck—she could feel it all pulsating, and her skin was tingling with anticipation. Her crimson-red hair flared up off her shoulders.
A mark, a red xiphos crossed against a golden shield, seared itself onto the skin of her collarbone.
It was a rush of power that came through her veins—the rush of great white rapids, sending a sensation of shivers down her spine. She could feel the power surging through her entire being. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, even beyond the power of the maidens. Her eyes glowed and blazed with green flames, representing a burst of fury that threatened to encapsulate her opponent.
The dented Miló mecha-shifted into a xiphos, whose tip remained dented. But the blade was still sharp, and that would have to do.
She burst forth. Crimson lightning surged forth from her fingertips with a vengeance, striking and slashing through the tough hide of the tentacles. She saw the widened eyes of her opponent, and she slashed downwards, aiming to pierce the space between her fluorescent eyes.
But she was still too slow. In the blink of an eye, Discordia had moved backward, just out of arm's reach.
Discordia narrowed her eyes, watching her opponent with a new sense of caution.
What had caused that explosion, that burst of energy? It was far from normal, she mused. Nothing had changed in her appearance... Except, Discordia could see a red and gold mark on the skin of Nikos' right collarbone. A bloodred xiphos crossed against a golden shield.
What was that? That hadn't been there before...
Her opponent eyed her with a new sense of wariness. Pyrrha had seen that look on her opponents countless times before. During spars, during tournaments, and even while fighting countless Grimm.
It didn't matter to her.
Recognizing that Akoúo̱ was dented beyond repair, Pyrrha hurled her shield at Discordia, who batted it away with her chain whip.
But the truth was that it was only the beginning, an obstacle for Pyrrha to close the gap.
Miló led the way, the glistening blade heading straight for Discordia's throat.
A tentacle blocked it, and the xiphos shattered in half. But part of the blade that had shattered obscured Discordia's vision. In the blink of an eye, Pyrrha had pulled her daggers from her heeled boots, and Discordia barely managed to avoid the blow that followed.
Pyrrha thrust once more, arcs of scarlet fury dancing along the edge of her tharium daggers, which sliced through the tentacles with ease.
Until the daggers met the chain of Discordia's chain whip. The blade end of the whip swung around, causing Pyrrha to divert her attention.
A heel drove itself into her midriff, and Pyrrha gasped violently in pain. The chain whip almost wound itself around her neck, but not before Pyrrha used her daggers to catch the chain links, and she managed to slip out.
Still, that left her vulnerable to Discordia's tentacles, which bore down onto her exposed body. Akoúo̱ was in her hand in an instant, but the damage had already been done.
Discordia fired more tentacles, and Pyrrha bent the winds to her will, putting distance between her and her opponent. Pyrrha straightened herself, glaring daggers at her opponent. Although her body was still brimming with energy, she could tell her aura was running low by now. Her scroll beeped, telling her that it was red. She thinned her lips.
Still, there was good news. Pyrrha was ninety percent sure she had pinpointed Discordia's semblance. Her opponent wasn't using that semblance—the power that could drain away aura and eat away at metal and flesh, like a parasite. It meant that she couldn't use it. Pyrrha estimated that it had been around thirty seconds since the initial use. In other words, a time limit and recharge were needed, like a battery. As long as she could defend against the onslaught for thirty seconds, she could go on the offensive without risks.
"That was quite the impressive display, Nikos. A strange surging of power..." Discordia mused aloud. "Still, you will not survive this battle. I'll make sure of it."
Pyrrha did not respond. She was euphoric with energy, but her primary weapon, Miló, had been shattered in two. What remained were two mecha-shifting daggers and a dented Akoúo̱. She doubted that was enough.
"By the end of this, I'll replace you!" A crazed, almost feral grin spread across her opponent's face. The voice was hysterical, cruel, and mocking, dripping with pure savagery.
"Percy is mine!"
-o-o-o-
The situation was not looking good. Qrow would be the first to admit it. As someone who had been through an awful number of fights in his heyday, things were definitely not looking up for them.
The huntsman was pulled out of his thoughts as he watched Tai duel against Tyrian. Tai was rusty – even at full power, Tyrian would overwhelm him in an instant. But Tai's semblance and special technique were uniquely suited to defense. As long as he stayed calm, and strictly on the defensive, he would be able to last for hours. The kids tried to keep the massive Hazel Rainart at bay. Qrow had mixed feelings about Hazel – his former professor at Beacon. But he was an enemy now, and that was all that mattered.
Qrow burst into a bird, trying to sneak up on his former professor. Dashing in, he grabbed the giant's arm and hurled his momentum into him, attempting to shoulder-throw him to the ground or at least make him lose his balance so that he would be more vulnerable to attacks. But Hazel Rainart's stance was wide and sure, and when Qrow pulled, it was like trying to move a mountain.
He heard it too late. The rapid movement of air from overhead.
Rainart lashed out, catching Qrow on the backswing. "Fuck!" a pained shout tore out from his throat, and the huntsman folded around the blow. It felt as if he were being walloped by a massive wooden club without aura.
It slammed him across the clearing. His back struck the boulder in the center of the clearing, and he bounced into the air. Qrow was a flag torn by a changing storm, and his body crunched in a heap at the edge of the clearing, aching all over and his head swimming.
Distantly, he could hear the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching him, but he was too busy dealing with the pain in his back.
"Motherf—" With a vicious strength that he hadn't known he still possessed, Qrow forced himself to roll once, then twice. The ground where he'd laid exploded in a squall of dirt and spikes as they formed from the ground as Rainart's fist smashed into it.
Qrow staggered up, and then he was running, putting on a burst of speed to distance himself from the deadly Hazel Rainart.
He heard the enraged roar of Rainart behind him, and the footsteps. Trusting his senses, Qrow ducked immediately, watching the whoosh of Rainart's fist above his head. Spinning, he blocked the fist of fire that Hazel sent his way with the flat of his blade, Harbinger. The singe of fire burned away, with a hunger and malevolence that made Qrow doubt if it was fire dust at all.
The huntsman immediately broke away when he saw the telltale sign of lightning dust, not willing to let Hazel run his electricity up Harbinger's blade.
He spun, slashing, but Rainart just grabbed Harbinger's blade with his right arm, stopping it cold in its tracks. Qrow grabbed Harbinger with two hands, throwing his weight behind the cut, but the blade would not budge. He stared, frozen in horror as his former professor brought his other hand down in a fury of gravity dust, prepared to send the huntsman six feet under.
It was a massive bolt of gravity dust that saved him, dozens of bullets peppering Rainart's arm. Immediately, the huntsman took advantage, wrenching his blade away from the giant's grasp, and leaping backward to put distance between them. Qrow's eyes flicked to his right, as the Arc kid peeled off from fighting Callows to distract Rainart.
That Arc kid had saved his ass. Normally it was the opposite situation.
"First time for everything, huh?"
Qrow snorted. "Sure kid. Sure."
Qrow and Jaune were about to go on the offensive, but a cry of pain emanated from the other side of the clearing. "Ren!" Their heads whipped to their rights, and Qrow cursed, realizing. Lie Ren had been stabbed in the arm by Callows' venomous scorpion tail. Callows' hands glowed a deadly purple.
He had activated his semblance. Based on Qrow's info, Callows' semblance allowed him to penetrate the aura. If they didn't get Ren to a doctor soon... he'd be kicking the bucket. Already the purple on his wound was beginning to spread.
Rainart suddenly swung for him again, a gust of wind accompanying it that told Qrow it was wind dust. He leaped backward, parrying the fist with his blade. The pang that accompanied the impact shook his arm down to the bone, and Qrow winced in pain.
Hazel pummeled him again, ignoring the shots that Jaune was firing at him. The kid didn't jump in, Qrow observed, knowing he would die if he did.
Qrow grunted with exertion, trying his best to avoid the strikes as he backed up. But the lightning dust and wind dust that Hazel had injected into himself made Qrow no match for him.
The huntsman wheezed as a fist drove itself into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Hit after hit, Qrow kept parrying and dodging as he could with Harbinger's scythe form, but even decades of experience as a huntsman had not prepared him for the monstrosity that Hazel Rainart was.
So when Rainart's fist smashed the remainder of his aura to shattered pieces, it was no surprise to the old huntsman.
Across the clearing, Qrow could see Tai fighting Tyrian head-on, exchanging blows, and managing to match his scorpion wrist blades with his bare fists. Nora smashed her hammer into Callows' back, but it was blocked by a simple flick of Callows' scorpion tail.
The injured Ren was propped up, his back against a tree. Zwei, the small dog that he was, stood over the kid protectively, barking at them.
Rainart raised his fists above his head, and Qrow mecha-shifted Harbinger back into a sword, blocking the large fists with his blade. Already, his muscles were on fire, screaming from the exertion.
Arc came over, slicing at Rainart's back with his sword, but Rainart whirled around, catching it with his hands. He drove a boot into Arc's stomach, and Jaune keeled over in pain. His ribcage had undoubtedly caved in, despite the aura. Qrow heard more than a few rib cracks, confirming his theory, as a knee struck Arc's face. His body was sent careening several feet into the air, and it flopped down on the dirt a few yards away.
Qrow took the opportunity to thrust his blade with all his might. Straight for the jugular it soared, but it was met with a wall of aura harder than steel. Rainart whirled back around, and stomped his foot into Qrow's chest, sending his body into the ground.
"I'm sorry it had to be like this."
Qrow coughed up blood, desperately trying to hold on as he blocked the follow-up strikes with the flat of his blade. But it wasn't enough.
An elbow to the head. A kick to the ribs. Punches rained down on him left, right, and center, Hazel pummeling him as if he were a ragdoll. Qrow found that his body couldn't move under the weight. His head was spinning, and his eardrums were ringing in agony. Harbinger was dented, the metal no match for the dust-enhanced fists of Hazel Rainart.
"Haven't you had enough? Killing innocents under Salem!?" Qrow rasped. All he received in response was a strike to the face.
"I'm only righting the wrongs."
"You're no better than Ozpin! Gretchen wouldn't have wanted this!"
Hazel froze. Qrow glared into his eyes. There was an unmistakable twist of rage there. Embers of fire burned within his eyes, unquenchable thirst and rage for exacting vengeance.
"You don't know that."
Qrow coughed violently. A rueful laugh escaped his lips. "You've always been blind when it came to Gretchen. What would she think now? She probably hates you!"
An indignant roar came from his former professor. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Rainart shouted.
"Answer me!" His fist struck through the ground beside him with such force that it sent dirt and debris into Qrow's eyes.
"You've been blinded by your quest for vengeance! Haven't you had enough?" Qrow spat bitterly.
His words were guttural and deafening. "Shut the fuck up! You have no right!" He slammed his elbow into Qrow's solar plexus. Qrow coughed, spitting out blood at Rainart's eyes.
Rainart raised his fists above his head again, but Qrow no longer had the strength to even hold up his blade. It was over.
He was going to lose. They were going to lose.
He could only cover his face with his forearms, futilely. Punch after punch laid into his defense. He heard his bone snap from the pure force of the punches, and it was not a moment later when his arms erupted in excruciating pain.
Qrow shouted, and Hazel laid another fist into his jaw. And another. And another. His vision was getting hazy now. Qrow could barely keep his eyes open.
Rainart raised his fists together above his head.
This was it, wasn't it? Qrow closed his eyes.
He brought it down.
There was a grunt of exertion and a clang of metal. Huh? He wasn't dead?
Qrow opened his eyes, seeing a certain blond-haired boy standing above him. The little punk. "What are you doing?"
Jaune gritted his teeth, straining his shield against the strength of the eight-foot-tall giant. "Saving your ass, of course!"
Before Qrow could reply, Rainart kneed Jaune in the stomach, causing him to keel over. Jaune tanked the hit, though, and he brought Crocea Mors down with all of his might. The blade sliced through the air, but its edge was no match for Rainart's flesh, and the giant simply grabbed the sword by its blade with his fingers. Jaune widened his eyes. His blade had been stopped cold in its tracks.
He felt the whooshing of air, but it was too late. Rainart's left arm swung around, and it was all Jaune could do to put a forearm up. The giant's fist that slammed into him had the force of a truck, and before he knew it, he was on his back on the ground.
His head was swimming, and his vision was blurry. He could just barely make out the figure that was in front of him, and he hurriedly brought his shield to bear. And not a second late, as fist after fist began pummeling into the shield.
The shock of the blow caused his very bones to rattle, and he pushed his aura to the forefront, trying to tank the blows. But it didn't matter.
Wind dust caused his grip on his shield to falter. Gravity dust amplified the strength of the blows. Lightning dust caused electricity to run up the length of the shield and into his bones. Fire dust engulfed the shield, singeing the skin on his arms.
Still, Jaune held on for dear life, summoning his semblance to recharge his own aura. And yet, he could feel his reserves declining despite his very best efforts.
His body was cold. It was getting colder—and heavier.
Help... please...
Someone… anyone…
-o-o-o-
"White Rose!" Weiss called out, gliding across the clearing with her glyphs. They were side by side, making sure that Emerald couldn't trick them with illusions, as they blitzed towards the green-haired girl.
Ruby led the way, charging at Emerald with her scythe, Weiss on her right. Ruby fired from her scythe, propelling herself forward, and swinging.
Emerald parried it with her sickles, but a timely barrage of ice crystals from Weiss froze Emerald's feet in place. Weiss struck, piercing Emerald with her rapier in a volley of thrusts. Emerald managed to break free from the ice, but not before sustaining a bunch of hits from Weiss' rapier and Ruby's scythe.
A thick mist began settling over the area, a blanket of obscurity that hid the green-haired girl from view. It was unsettling, the way they couldn't see anything at all. "Where is she?" Ruby whirled around, seeing nothing but gray clouds.
Weiss frowned, her eyes darting from side to side. But all was quiet.
Suddenly, there was a flash of green on the left, and she whipped her head in that direction. A glyph formed on the tip of Myrtenaster, and she sent spikes of ice firing off, hoping to elicit a cry or shout of pain from the girl. But all was silent.
Suddenly, a chained sickle shot itself from the right with such speed that it took them by surprise. It was all they could do to avoid the strike, and the chain reeled itself back into the mist.
There was a shuffle of boots on the dirt behind them and a snapping of a twig. Ruby tried to go in that direction with her semblance, but Weiss grabbed her wrist. She tugged again, but Weiss was not going to let go of her. "We stick together." She stressed, "She's trying to split us up so she can use her semblance to her advantage. Don't let that happen." Ruby nodded complacently, understanding.
A thought suddenly struck Weiss, and she used Myrtenaster, generating gusts of wind with her wind dust. Firing straight in front of her, she watched carefully. The mist didn't move.
"It's an illusion. The entire thing is an illusion," she realized. Emerald couldn't keep this illusion up forever. "Ruby, hold onto me."
Immediately recognizing her intentions, Ruby activated her semblance, dragging Weiss along for the ride. Rose petals fell in her wake, and soon enough, they covered the entire area with vibrant, bright red petals. Using a glyph, Weiss kept them elevated above the illusion, giving them a higher vantage point of the battlefield.
Emerald's mist illusion was much weaker up here, and easier to see through. Now, where was Emerald...
There! A pair of petals fluttered, and Weiss and Ruby moved in tandem. Weiss fired away, using the wind dust in her rapier to reveal the green-haired girl.
They struck her, with ice bullets, thrusting rapiers, and slashing scythes. Emerald wasn't equipped to handle two huntresses at once. She was losing, rapidly.
Realizing she was on the back foot, Emerald made one last desperate attempt to regain the advantage.
The height of a small mountain, she was a behemoth, with a presence intimidating enough to cow any in her presence that was the weight of mountains, compelling them to kneel. Her black sclera and glowing cerise eyes only added to the growing unease, and stronger than ever was the smell of Grimm and death which seemed to follow her every step.
Salem. Queen of the Grimm. Unease pooled low in her stomach.
Then, she disappeared. She was on Ruby's left. And then her right. Ruby jerked backward.
"It's an illusion! She's trying to escape!" Weiss shouted.
She slashed at Emerald, ignoring the large hologram, Emerald countered by wrapping her wrists with her chained sickles. A boot drove into Weiss' stomach, but Weiss' suit finally paid off, as she barely felt the impact. Her bodily constitution had increased, and that allowed Weiss to drive her elbow into Emerald's stomach.
The green-haired girl keeled over, and this time, Ruby took advantage, bringing Crescent Rose down on Emerald once, twice, then three times. A last thrust from Myrtenaster was enough to bring Emerald to her knees, and capture her consciousness, as her green aura dissolved.
"Nice job Ruby!" Weiss turned to congratulate her partner, but she noticed that she wasn't looking at the white-haired girl. "Ruby?"
Ruby was slack-jawed. Her heart beat against her ribcage, her hands trembling.
Across the clearing was Jaune, and a giant of man who was pummeling him. Jaune's telltale golden aura dissipated in the air. It wasn't a fight—it was an execution. Tornadoes of lightning raged forth from the man's fists, burning away at her friend's aura.
The man brought his fists above him, for one final killing blow.
She knew she couldn't make it there in time, even with her semblance. Crescent Rose was out of bullets.
Jaune...
Was he about to die?
She was watching him slip away, and she was powerless to stop it. Powerless to help.
"He's going to die if you don't help him. Everyone will die, not just him. Nora. Ren. But you don't care about them, do you?"
"No! That's wrong! I care about them!" she shouted, the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes.
She didn't know where that distorted, jarring voice came from. It couldn't have poured forth from her lips—was she hallucinating? What was happening?
"Are you sure? What about Yang? Blake? Weiss? Pyrrha? Percy?"
"No! They won't! I—"
"They'll die. Just like your mother."
No... no... no...
No... Ruby grabbed her head, sinking to her knees. But, like a moth drawn to a flame, her eyes locked back onto the scene before her.
"How many times? How many times will you let those around you die in front of you? Powerless to stop it?"
A shrill, blood-curdling scream seemed to come out of nowhere. It was jarring, unearthly, deafening—and then she realized it was coming from her own throat. Her body had been taken over.
Her eyes were glowed with a white, ethereal light—a brightness of a thousand suns. Her eyes were on fire, searing her retinas away. She screamed, clutching her face with trembling hands. The light was blinding, piercing through her eyelids as if they were daggers. She felt a surge of heat in her chest, spreading to her limbs and head. She collapsed on the floor, writhing in agony. She could hear voices around her, shouting and panicking, but they sounded distant and muffled.
And then there was nothing but darkness.
-o-o-o-
The soft metal of Winter's blade gave way as Cinder put even more pressure into it. The resulting flames singed Winter's clothes, forcing the Atlesian specialist to duck and roll away.
Cinder attempted to continue the onslaught, but she was interrupted by an array of spinning blades.
Penny fired green beams at Cinder, but they were blocked by a roaring wall of burning flames. On the other side, Vernal lunged at Cinder, but her pitiful speed was no match for the Fall Maiden. She was met swiftly with a heel to the face, and a blade to the stomach.
Cinder laughed, smiling as Vernal's aura gave way under her, and she set her sword on fire, burning away what little was left of the bandit's aura.
Just when she was about to finish her off, Winter and Penny appeared, firing off glyphs and beams that distracted Cinder. Growling, the Fall Maiden blocked the shots with her blade. She had grown sick of this by now.
She swept the ground with her hand, creating a flurry of glass projectiles and shards which she sent hurtling at the two. Winter dove to her left, and Penny flashed to the right, successfully avoiding the shards.
Winter cursed. "Penny!" she shouted, making eye contact. The orange-haired girl nodded once, and Winter knew she had gotten the message.
She went down on one knee and struck the dirt ground with her saber, envisioning her summon. A great Manticore.
"Oh no you don't!" A cacophony of flames erupted from Cinder's palms, which were intercepted by Penny, who blocked them with her spinning array of blades. A cry of outrage emanated across the clearing, and overwhelming gusts of wind blew balls of fire into Penny's defense. More than a few slipped by hitting Winter's aura, and she grimaced as her summoning was interrupted. She'd have to—
"Winter!" Penny shouted in warning. Winter looked up. "Wha—"
There was a flicker of fire and a flash of steel.
A column of inferno flames burst itself from Cinder's palms, arcs and halos of blazing fire which twirled around it like moths drawn to a flame. Winter had never seen anything like it. It was a beautiful, nihilistic destruction, the dancing and flickering of the flames, almost as if they were alive. The clearing lit up, and the grass was set ablaze as the column of fire shot toward them—a streaking, deadly comet.
"Move!" The thunderous roar barely reached her ears in time, but years of military training finally took over as her body moved of its own accord, knowing if she didn't, she would be reduced to ashes.
But still, she had moved too late. The beam struck her with the fury of a coiled serpent, with the wrath of the divine, burning away her aura—a never-ending, uncompromising blaze. It was cold, at first. Colder than the abyss, as cold as the glaciers in Atlas. And then it came.
Agony.
Someone was ripping her skin off; she was being stabbed with a hundred thousand needles at once, piercing through her stinging skin. She opened her mouth, but no voice came out. Her skin was throbbing, her nerves set ablaze. She tried to get to her feet but found that she couldn't. Her body refused. The smell of her singed hair drifted into her senses. Her vision was hazy, and her head was swimming. After a few more seconds, her aura dissolved.
Her bangs were matted to her forehead with sweat, and her white locks were matted with dirt and mud. Still, she looked up through the pain.
Everywhere she looked, it was on fire. The ground, the trees, the forest. All set ablaze in an ever-raging inferno.
Lifting her head, she could just barely make out the figure of Penny, a few yards to her left. She had also been struck by the flames.
A heeled boot planted itself in front of her, which Winter vaguely recognized as belonging to Cinder. She felt a force pressing the back of her head into the dirt, and when she resisted, Cinder curb-stomped her face into the ground. But she was still numb from the burning sensation, and she barely felt anything as pebbles and dirt got into her eyes.
The sound of a vain sneer traveled down to her ears. "How does it feel? You Atlesian specialists, subjugated, pitiful, lying on the ground. This is where you belong."
Winter didn't have the energy to reply. Her body was burning up internally; at the same time, her skin felt cold. Her muscles to cooperate—her body would not move.
The hot metal tip of a blade pressed itself into her neck, drawing a thin line of blood. Winter closed her eyes.
Cinder raised the sword and brought it down.
There was a clang of metal.
"Yoohoo~ Sorry I'm late! Are you guys okay?" It was a sweet, easy-going voice that called out, almost as if they weren't in the middle of a fight. Who was this? More clangs rang out through the clearing, and Winter knew the fight had moved away from her. She was regaining bodily control, and after a few more seconds, she was able to force her body to roll over and push herself up.
Wiping the dirt from her eyes with tired hands, she squinted to see who her savior was: A green-haired, brown-eyed woman, wearing traditional Mistralian armor had come to her rescue. She was around 5'5" or 165 cm and wielded two Mistralian butterfly swords—hudiedao—with practiced ease and skill, fending off Cinder Fall. Winter vaguely recognized her as Yoshimoto Nao. A Sword of Mistral.
Her swordplay was far superior to Fall's; however, Cinder's flames burst forth, and the woman had to fall back.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question! I'm Yoshimoto Nao by the way. Sword of Mistral. You can just call me Nao." Winter grunted in acknowledgment.
"Your friends should be also safe," she chirped cheerily as if they weren't in the middle of a fight, "Kal and Sage came along with me."
-o-o-o-
Two pistols were pressed into Blake's body. One to her forehead, and one to her throat.
"Blake!" A savage scream desperately tore itself out of Yang's throat. Her fingers clawed at the air. If she could do anything, anything…
Yang watched as her dead mother's fingers pulled the triggers.
Two shots rang out. But there was a flash of gold and white, and Blake fell back onto the ground, somehow unhurt. Instead, the barrels of the pistols had been diverted.
Yang's breath caught in her throat.
In front of them stood a tall man, wearing flowing white robes and armor, under which Yang could make out broad, powerful shoulders coupled with supple, strong thighs and a slender waist. A katana was sheathed on his right hip, his left hand on the golden hilt of his blade.
"Leave at once." His voice was royal and reassuring, like a prince—pleasantly soft and silvery, yet sharp, like a knife. Somehow, it was both gentle and imposing.
"You Mistralians..." Not-Summer pouted. It was real, almost real enough to make them falter, "Don't know how to have fun at all! You won't even allow a mother-daughter reunion?"
"No." The man's voice cut through the air. His thumb pushed forward on his tsuba, and two inches of stoic, glimmering white metal was exposed. The golden edge of the blade shone, almost humming in anticipation. "You are trespassing on Mistralian territory and creating violence. I won't ask twice."
"Aww~ what a shame..." Not Summer disappeared, a cloud of dust exploding where she had been standing.
A flash of steel. It hummed, and it was almost as if it was alive, akin to Percy's sword. It left an arc of blinding white in its wake. A ring of steel emanated throughout the clearing as it intercepted an axe. It was a crescent slash, in the shape of a fluorescent moon that was left in its trail.
The Grimm woman countered, slashing down with her axe. A dozen limbs and masses of flesh exploded from her back, vaulting towards him.
He thrust his katana, his white, flowing robes obscuring his movements, as he unleashed twelve swift, powerful strikes in the form of crescent slashes, each in rapid succession which hissed and hummed through the air, flowing and twisting. It was a horizontal cyclone of platinum white power that emerged, rushing forward at blinding speeds.
Masses of black flesh fell to the ground, and his opponent was forced backward, putting distance between them. The man placed the tip of his sword on his sheath, drawing it up, and then sheathing it, the telltale metallic rasp rang out in the clearing.
"Ah, I see. Liu Kalman. You're a Sword of Mistral. Impressive!" she clapped her hands, akin to a child who had found their favorite toy, "I didn't think you'd be this tough!"
The man didn't respond, his posture still rigid. "Leave. Don't force me to say it again."
-o-o-o-
She felt slow, almost sluggish. But she couldn't pinpoint why that was. She was weaker, slower, completely outclassed by the woman—no, demon, in front of her.
She couldn't see her moves.
"W-What is this?"
Her aura was draining. Not just from the hits she had taken... She could feel it.
"You weren't careful, Raven."
Raven blinked.
Lilith reappeared in front of her, slashing downwards with the glaive.
Raven barely avoided it, jumping backward. Her reaction speed was down.
The winds sped up even further, her maiden powers aiding her as she pushed backward away from Lilith to create space.
Then, she noticed it. The skin of her neck was open. A drop of blood fell onto her clothes. Lilith had pierced through her aura at the neck, but Raven hadn't noticed it.
What was this? Such an insignificant nick shouldn't have any effect on her… And yet...
Raven's eyes narrowed, forcing herself backward to avoid an upward thrust from Lilith.
She was slower.
It was her semblance. But the effect hadn't happened until... until Lilith had drawn blood.
First blood. She was slower and weaker, and her opponent stronger and faster. Raven had never seen such a semblance in her life—a fast-acting drug that required access to the bloodstream. Even now, her vision was starting to get hazy at the edges. An incredibly effective venom, even beyond the capabilities of scorpion faunus.
Raven was brought out of her thoughts as the blade came downwards, sparking arcs of malevolent purple energy slamming into her with an unmatched rage. Raven parried furiously with her gravity dust blade, but her speed was slow, and a few arcs pulled through. They burned like hell—malevolent gales of wind that bit into her skin with reckless abandon and a primal fury.
She was sent skidding backward on the ground, kicking up dust in the wake of her trail. She paused on her knees, coughing violently. She was weaker. She could sense it. It was obvious.
She still had one more trick up her sleeve, though.
Lilith slashed downwards, and Raven disappeared into a bird, fluttering and reappearing in Lilith's blind spot for a strike. Except she was met with an elbow to the face. Her ears were ringing.
So she had expected that one too, huh?
Raven's forehead bore the brunt of the blow, and her head was sent spinning. With no time for respite, Lilith slammed a knee into her midriff. Raven felt her ribs give way as she doubled over, coughing violently.
Lilith struck again, and Raven's muscles faltered against Lilith's overwhelming strength, pushing her down to one knee.
And then the realization came. She had just been toying with her. Playing with her as food.
Raven didn't like that.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lilith's leg heading for her, but her senses were dulled, and it was far too late.
It slammed into her with overwhelming force, breaking through most, if not all of her aura at the abdomen, sending Raven's back onto the ground. It knocked the remaining wind out of her as if she were some life-sized toy doll.
Still, decades of warrior's instinct paid off, as Raven rolled immediately. And it was not a second too late, as the tip of Lilith's glaive struck the dirt, creating a powerful shockwave of purple energy that sent Raven's body careening into the air.
Raven just barely managed to roll back onto her feet to meet Lilith. But already, she was losing again.
Raven cursed as she felt her leg muscles falter. Black tentacles of abominable flesh twirled and feinted, causing her to react in response. Raven's movements were being controlled—she was being tugged around, commanded, akin to a dancing puppet. Lilith kicked, whipping her glaive around for a devastating blow to Raven's chest, staggering her. The blade came down once, twice, then three times, and Raven folded around the blow.
The Spring Maiden crumbled. She coughed again, this time seeing blood.
And then it was over.
Her back hit the tree, and her muscles gave out, causing her to slide down into a fetal position. Raven's chest rose with each heavy pant, her bangs matted to her forehead with sweat. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, with the heat of a hundred suns bearing down on her. The metallic scent of her own blood drifted into her senses, letting her know that she was done.
The deadly glistening tip of a glaive was leveled at her neck. A thin line of blood which was drawn by the tip began dripping down onto the dirt.
A blade intercepted the blow, sending Lilith, for the first time, backward. Raven narrowed her eyes at the newcomer.
She was a giant of a woman, probably the tallest human she had ever seen, other than her old professor, Hazel Rainart. Mistralian was the second thing Raven clocked about her. She recognized the weapon. A large swordstaff that could mecha-shift into an axe? There was no doubt that this was Irwys Sage. A Sword of Mistral. Judging by the cold demeanor she held, the woman undoubtedly knew who Raven Branwen was. The Sword of Mistral clearly wasn't happy about it. Raven's reputation preceded her, it seemed.
Across the large, main clearing, she could see the numerous other confrontations happening. Yang and Blake against... Summer. With a Sword of Mistral. Nikos, the Invincible Girl, against another Grimm hybrid. Summer's brat and a Schnee against a green-haired girl. Both Summer's brat and the girl were unconscious. The elder Schnee, Vernal, and the Atlesian puppet against Cinder Fall. With the last Sword of Mistral. Unease pooled low in her stomach. Why were all three of them here, all three Swords?
Tai and a group of brats against Tyrian Callows. A knocked-out Qrow and another brat against a knocked-out giant. Her eyes widened. Was that... their former professor? Hazel Rainart? What was he doing here? Part of Raven didn't want to know.
Then, the sky turned dark.
An ominous, oppressive aura exerted its will over the entire clearing. There was an instinctual lull in the fighting as if everyone had made a unanimous, unspoken pact to pause the battle.
Goosebumps on her skin rose as winds howled with the cries of the damned, threatening to tear through trees, akin to a hot knife through butter. Lightning crackled, dancing in the sky like the fingers of a god, with bolts of electricity that seemed to be directed by an unseen hand, striking at will and causing widespread destruction. The lightning was a blinding white, hot enough to melt steel and vaporize flesh in an instant.
The thunder that accompanied the wrath of the divine was deafening—the roar of a thousand tigers that shook the very foundations of trees.
The rain lashed down in a relentless deluge, sheets of water that poured from the sky as if the very heavens themselves were weeping tears of blood. It was icy cold, and acidic, threatening to corrode the ground and pierce through the strongest metals with its malevolent energy, as it frantically searched for its next victim. The air was thick with the stench of brimstone, and the ground trembled beneath the fury of the tempest.
This was the power of Apollyon.
He appeared in a flash of blinding white.
Appearing only as a blur, he came in front of Tai, slashing away Tyrian's deadly scorpion pincers. His movements were like the sound of thunder and the strikes of lightning, but with a flip of the switch, they were the rush of white rapids, his strength a roaring wave—no, a tsunami the size of mountains, which, with a mere flick of the blade, had sent Callows through the air. His body slammed through one, two, then three trees before the body finally tumbled in the dirt and came to a stop.
"He's mine!" A crazed, indignant roar broke out across the clearing. A black blur burst towards Apollyon, shooting forth as fast as a bullet. Dark shapes of tentacles fired with the power of a cannon from the blur, darting towards him. An aquamarine longsword manifested in his left hand. His stance shifted, and there was a rapid, almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere.
There was a humming slash, and then all was dark. It was a moment of silence in which nothing could be heard until trails of chromatic lightning lit up the arcs behind the blade as it swung into a beautiful circle, powerful torrents of air and whirlwinds propelling the blade. It was a horizontal cyclone—a shooting comet, a brilliance of teal lightning, wind, and water that blitzed through the forest.
The resulting illumination lit up the surrounding area, revealing that the opponent was nowhere near them. She had been sent deep into the forest.
Raven had briefly wondered what had possessed Lilith to not attack. However, soon, she didn't need to wonder anymore.
"You are trespassing on Mistralian territory. Leave."
AN: P a treon Announcement! (apologies for the spaces, FFN doesn't allow it).
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Next Chapter: May 15th
-thann